Working in the gardens turned out to be better than Sara had thought. Although Alby and Minho said she'd begin working when her leg healed, Sara didn't mind starting sooner. Her leg didn't hurt as much anymore, and she needed something to do either way or she'd go crazy.

Sara loved the feeling of taking care of living things. Things that provided the Glade with food and oxygen, a remote but greatly appreciated relief from the confinement of the place. It made her feel somewhat more alive, giving her a purpose to continue working there. As if the plants and crops were a symbol of hope. She didn't even mind the bending down, and the part of getting her hands dirty while working the dirt. At least she felt occupied, useful, and maybe even free.

Back at WICKED HQ, she felt like a prisoner dying to get out of there. She was gleefully looking forward to entering the Maze to be reunited with her friends, only to realize she ended up in a different version of the prison, where none of her friends remembered her, and where WICKED had control over all of them. Essentially, she escaped one prison to get trapped in another one.

"Whoa there, Greenbean. Careful," the Keeper of the Track-hoes, Zart, warned her. "You don't wanna pull the plants along with the weeds," he said, smiling at the intensity with which she worked.

"Sorry." Sara chuckled sheepishly. She hadn't noticed how much her thoughts had angered her.

"That's alright, Sara," he said kindly to her, "you'll get the hang of it soon. Usually doesn't take too long. Just be careful next time."

Sara liked Zart. The Keeper of the Track-hoes was one of the few people that had the patience to explain things carefully, and he wasn't rude or short-tempered like pretty much everyone else. Well, Chuck and Zart. And quite possibly, Minho. They were the only people she felt she could trust, and who didn't always wish to throw her to the Grievers.

"Hey, Zart?" she awkwardly began, unsure how to bring up the question as she continued working on the task in front of her.

He didn't pause his work either, but he simply glanced at her for a brief second. "Yeah?"

It embarrassed her, but the need to know was greater. "Do you have any clue why Alby laughed at me when I said I wanted to work as a Track-hoe?"

He stopped to think for a moment. "Hmm. Well, what was the reason you gave him for choosing the job?" He raised an eyebrow. A peculiar feeling told Sara that Zart probably had an idea.

She shrugged. "Uh, well, I said being a Track-hoe was probably my thing."

"Nothin' else?" He continued to work the tomatoes, trying to have a casual conversation.

Sara furrowed her eyebrows. "Yeah, um, that I... wanted to get away from certain people. Find other people to talk to that wouldn't be yelling at me or complaining about me."

"Oh." He knowingly smiled.

Her eyes widened. "What—you know? What did he mean?" she desperately tried to get him to say more.

This time he stopped what he was doing and laughed. "Greenie, I'd gladly tell you, but I'm sure Alby would wanna drag my shuck butt off the Cliff if I did. It'd be best to see for yourself in a couple of days, or maybe weeks."

It was annoying how no one gave her answers but it was so easy for her to be the talk among those guys. She'd revealed her name only to Newt and the Med-Jacks, and then everyone was calling her by her name the next day. Rumor got to Alby pretty quickly and for some reason, he seemed to dislike her more. And then he always had a bipolar attitude; it was difficult to tell whether he was joking or not.

She concluded that Alby either hated her and wanted to spread rumors, or something else was going on. "I have to wait that long? Why's it such a huge deal?"

Zart let out another hearty laugh. "It's really not, but Alby's been kinda tense these days, so I'd rather not say anything if he didn't tell you right away. That's his decision." 

She groaned with frustration.

Why were they so secretive? She would have to know everything they knew eventually. It was always until Alby said so.

Alby, Alby, Alby.

No one ever moved a finger without his consent. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly like that, but still. She only asked a simple question, and apparently it was highly forbidden for Greenies to be inquisitive.

"Just keep working, shank," Zart urged her, "don't wreck your brains thinking about it. When the time comes, you'll know."

Sara grumbled under her breath. All she could do was continue working and wait if some gracious soul would ever give her the answer to her questions.

Still kneeled to the floor, she sensed movement. Something scurried past her, near the edge of the garden, and then it stopped suddenly, where she could catch a glimpse of its appearance. It was a small, mechanical lizard-like creature with a fluorescent, beaming light shining from its eyes. The beams bore into her eyes before it disappeared in the direction of the woods.

She swiftly got back to her feet, her thigh still throbbing. If it weren't for the attention she'd get, she would've shrieked but luckily, she settled down as she remembered what Rebecca had told her about the metal critters.

"Beetle blades," Zart said behind her. "Scared you, didn't it? It's how the creators watch us, or so we think."

Yeah, well... you're not wrong.

❀❀❀

"Rebecca, it's day three. What are you gonna do?"

Rebecca was tired of hearing the reprimanding words for the hundredth time.

"Calm down, Lisa," she whispered to her coworker. "Don't worry, things are under control—"

Lisa held up a hand. "No—look, I get it. I know how much you want to keep her safe and get your revenge—whatever. I support you." She put her hand on her own chest. "But maybe stop and think a little? It's the two of us... against an entire organization. How much of a chance do we have?" Her voice was high-pitched, expressing a deep concern.

Rebecca felt diminutive, as one would feel in a situation with no one to offer anything but negativity. She looked up from the video footage on her touchscreen, nostalgia filling her chest after observing the girl. Sara was looking straight at the camera, all the way from the Glade.

Lisa looked back at her expectantly, and Rebecca was brought back to her senses. "I'm sorry, I never got around to tell you everything, but listen. I just need you to keep everything between the two of us. I know you agree with me, you can't hide that. But you're gonna have to trust me," Rebecca told her.

Lisa sighed, feeling the panic rush into her bloodstream. "Fine—okay... what's next? 'Cause I don't think the girl's room is gonna be safe anymore. You need to plan out your hiding places better."

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca took a deep breath before handing Lisa a stack of files. "Look through these and find a girl from Group B to bring to me. Preferably one with a physique similar to Sara's, and around the same age and height."

Lisa scrunched her eyebrows together. "Why?"

Rebecca smiled. "Why do you think? Janson could care less about coming to visit his niece anyways. He'll fall for it."

Lisa's eyes widened as she finally understood what Rebecca was trying to do. "You've officially lost your mind. It wouldn't work unless she had a twin or something."

Rebecca thought she had everything under control, but it was hard to keep up. Sara's rush to get to Newt threw off her schedule. She'd been working so hard to delete any footage of Sara in the Glade that she hadn't made much progress with the rest of the plan.

"It'll only be to buy us some time."

Lisa didn't look convinced, and Rebecca worried she hadn't made the right decision of sharing information with her. "I don't know, this sounds like we're gonna get ourselves killed."

Rebecca was irritated, her attitude becoming more matter of fact. "Only if you can't keep your mouth shut. Trust me, with enough time and caution, this will work out. Please, just help me out, Lisa. We can get out of here. You, me, Sara, and as many kids as we can take to the Safe Haven." She hoped her words would motivate the younger woman.

As Lisa rummaged through the paper files in her hand, it seemed like Rebecca's words had the opposite effect.

"Have you even contacted Vince? And the Right Arm?" Lisa asked nervously as she kept looking, paper after paper. It didn't do much help that they were hiding in Sara's room, but no other place was safe enough.

Rebecca passed a hand down her face. "I'm going to."

Finally, Lisa stopped searching. "Well... I think I have the girl  you want." She raised a file from the pile and waved it in front of Rebecca.

"Perfect, let me see." Rebecca took the folder from the younger woman and started flipping through it. "Similar hair, same eye-color, same skin tone, a couple inches taller... hmm. Thanks Lisa, she'll do. Bring her to my office first thing tomorrow. Now let's get out of here."

Lisa was more than willing to leave Sara's room. She gathered the rest of the piles of folders and immediately followed Rebecca out. Her nerves failed to die down despite the apparent victory on their side. Nonetheless, she covered it up with nothing but a smile once Rebecca turned to her. She couldn't afford to let the brave Rebecca see what a coward she was.

~Sara~

After Sara's exhausting, yet productive day working as a Track-hoe, she made her decision. She wanted the job more than any other, even if she still hadn't tried them all.

The next day, she woke up early to let Alby know about her decision, and once again he found it amusing, yet he suppressed his smile this time. It still bothered her profusely.

For the next few days, she tried out for all the jobs in the Glade except for Runner and Bagger. She would've been a Med-jack first choice already, but that didn't go so well. And she'd rather not face Newt for a while if he was still having the same attitude.

Alby first sent Sara to work with Winston and the Slicers. She wasn't crazy about killing any animals, but she was also curious. Winston turned out to be a not-so-bad guy, but he wasn't necessarily excited to have her work with him.

"Greenbean, your grip is too weak," he snapped at her. "Can't even cut it, can you?" He wore a smirk that she wished she could rip out of his face.

Sara tried cutting the meat with greater force, wrapping her fingers securely around the knife handle. All of the knives were huge, so it cost her to hold her grip for too long.

"Sorry," she grunted. "Maybe if I didn't have to think about taking an animal's life, this would be much easier, you know?"

Winston scoffed. "Once you're licking your fingers tonight at dinner, you won't mind so much. Did you know Frypan makes the best smoked lamb chops?" He wasn't even trying to be friendly about it; if what he wanted was to gross her out more, he was succeeding.

Sara smiled at him with a subtle sense of victory. "Well, joke's on you because I hate lamb." Winston's face quickly went serious and she internally smacked her own forehead. "Uh... I have a feeling I just won't like it."

Winston rolled his eyes and turned his back on her, deciding it was better not to waste time arguing with her.

"You're annoying," he muttered under his breath.

"So are you."

Winston turned back to protest. "Slim it and stop talking," he said, then he took a closer look at her work. "Just make sure you don't—"

She gasped loudly and cried out, startling every single Slicer in the blood house.

"...cut yourself," Winston finished his sentence in a tone of voice in which one would know words were useless at that point.

The knife went right through the meat, and unable to stop its momentum, she sliced her skin just below her left wrist.

It fell out of her hand and made a loud, clanking noise on the floor, which was already flooded with animal blood.

Winston hurriedly grabbed a piece of cloth from an emergency basket the Slicers had in the corner, and he wrapped her cut. Then he rushed her to Clint and Jeff, meaning she wouldn't escape a visit to Newt after all; it was her lucky day.

As Winston opened the Med-jacks' door, Sara silently prayed that Newt would be asleep.

"Sara, what did you do to yourself?" Jeff asked as he unwrapped the already soaked cloth from her wrist. The blood immediately oozed out and Clint had to help Jeff control it. Jeff disinfected the cut, making her hiss—like tiny daggers were pinching away at it. It stung horribly even as Clint helped wrap it with gauze and secure it with tape.

"I proved that I suck as a Slicer, apparently," she replied, grunting from the pain. Jeff led her to a bed near Newt's, and she could already see the blond boy's curious eyes landing on her. An evident frown crossed his features as she sighed with disappointment at the sight of him.

"What the bloody heck happened to you?" he asked, looking at her hand, which was pretty much a bleb of white from the gauze.

"Bloody! Exactly!" she shouted angrily, lifting and waving her injured hand around for him to see.

❀❀❀

The next day, disappointed in her attempt with the Slicers, Sara wasn't too excited for what was next.

On top of that, she was upset about dinner the night before since she already knew she hated lamb, and what was worse, Winston actually stayed around to watch her try it. It wasn't a fun night for her.

Alby sent her to the kitchen with Frypan this time. It was barely day five of her being in the Glade, and day two of her job tryouts. Alby said that as long as she had her injuries wrapped up, and that she wouldn't do too much in the kitchen, her injuries shouldn't be an obstacle.

Frypan was actually very patient with her. He asked her to help him wash some of the vegetables in the kitchen sink and that was it. It was supposed to be easy, so nothing bad should be happening to her this time, it seemed. It was just water.

She was actually enjoying that job, so she decided to help with more. The Keeper was nice, the food was simple to make, and she was actually good at cooking. Rebecca had taught her a few things when her afternoons became unbearably tedious after she was done with her responsibilities, which paid off.

Frypan was carrying some of the washed vegetables, which he planned to put into the pot of stew that was boiling on the stove.

To Sara's disgrace, some water on the floor caused Frypan to slip, and potato and carrot pieces accidentally slipped out of his hands ahead of time and fell into the boiling liquid with force, splashing everywhere. He had the bowl in his hands which he used for cover, but Sara let out a scream as she immediately felt the burning sensation on her right arm.

It was just water, huh?

She desperately blew air on the burn as she watched the skin turn red. Frypan tried pouring cold water on it, but the contact made her retract her arm.

And once again, she was on a field trip to give Clint and Jeff another home visit. They wanted to be mad as soon as they saw her enter the Med-jack hut again, but they had to stifle a laugh.

"What is it this time?" Clint asked, looking over at Frypan, who was standing behind Sara.

"This shuck-face burned me." She frowned, nodding toward Frypan. Jeff led her to take a seat on the same bed as the day before. Newt took one look at her and burst out laughing.

"Wow, Sara. At this rate you're gonna end up being a buggin' Slopper for good," he told her, sort of reprimanding her.

She sent an icy stare in his direction. It wasn't the time to tell her what she would or wouldn't be. Everyone seemed to think she did it on purpose just so she wouldn't have to work, but it wasn't like that.

"Oh, for shuck's sake, Newt," she muttered, "shut up."

Frypan butted in. "It wasn't her fault this time, I promise." He looked genuinely concerned. "The lady shank was doin' just fine, I just wasn't careful."

Sara flashed Frypan a grateful smile. "Thanks, Fry." She immediately wrote his name on her imaginary list of people she could trust.

Finally, Alby came into the room. If he wasn't amused last time, his face showed twice that emotion right now.

"Are you shucking with me?" he snapped, putting his hands on his hips.

Frypan spoke up before Sara could. "Alby, slim it—it ain't her fault. It was mine."

Alby nodded impatiently. "Good that. Then tomorrow, I'm sending you with the Builders, Sara. You better give me something better than this." He gestured to her lying figure on the med-bed.

Sara lifted her chin, inhaling deeply. "Sure thing, boss. Let's see how it goes with two cuts and a burn tomorrow," she joked bitterly. Alby's reprimanding stance faltered only slightly, then he simply scoffed and left.

She averted her eyes, and they casually landed on Newt. He had a mildly apologetic look. She felt she needed to watch that look just a little while longer, just to get a sense of that rare occurrence when he didn't have that usual, judgmental frown of his.

❀❀❀

The following day, Alby sent Sara to work with the Builders. That dreaded day had come; she wasn't looking forward to facing a Keeper like Gally.

As soon as she took a look at Gally's cunning smile, she wanted to turn around and walk back to bed.

"Well, well, well. Just look at who we got here today, boys." He mockingly eyed her while addressing his words to his fellow Builders. "The mysterious, shuck-faced, she-bean."

Was that necessary?

Sara glared at him, pursing her lips until she almost felt no circulation coursing through them. She disliked the kid so much. And that dislike originated way back from when he was friends with Newt in HQ.

"Good morning to you too, Gally." She gave him a sweet fake-smile, which made him even angrier.

His eyebrows arched so aggressively that he didn't need to talk to let her know he was mad. "Alright, listen up, Greenie. I won't tolerate any slackin' from you. Nothin'. I don't give two klunks if you gave yourself a stack of booboos, I'm not gonna make it easy on you, shank. You hear?"

Not wanting to fuel his anger even further, Sara simply replied with, "Nice and clear."

It took a lot of willpower not to respond with a snarky comeback, or get straight to it and punch him right in the nose, but she had to save her knuckles from making her take another trip to the Med-jacks, and quite possibly the slammer.

She didn't think the other jobs could be dangerous for her—they really weren't; she just had terrible luck. In such a case, she was mentally preparing for every possible thing that could go wrong. It'd be foolish to expect anything less from Gally.

❀❀❀

Gally exhausted the living daylights out of Sara all day long. He made her chop off tree branches, one by one, from trees all the way in the deadheads. From there, she had to drag them all the way to the Builders' work depot.

Aside from the poking and scratching all over her back and shoulders from the branches, it took her so long to bring several of them over, earning her a chorus of laughter from all the Builders. Not only that, but they made her chop piece after piece of lumber from the branches on a tree stub with a huge axe, which she could barely lift.

Her old injuries hurt exceedingly bad, making her progress decrease in speed on every trip she made to the deadheads and back. She doubted it was a job for only one person; they simply held a huge grudge against her because no one trusted her. She was nonetheless proud of herself for pulling through the majority of that, which she knew had also surprised the boys. It was another moment in which she thanked Rebecca for encouraging her to strengthen her body.

Ultimately, with every bit of strength and energy stripped away from her body, and every inch of it screaming for her to stop, Sara collapsed. The branch resting on her shoulders came tumbling down after her and struck her on the right side of her forehead.

She was barely conscious when she felt the warm liquid trickling down the side of her face. As if through the end of a tunnel, she could faintly hear Gally yelling some inaudible nonsense at her.

Once she regained consciousness and opened her eyes, she saw a chubby face staring down at her with worry, and another familiar face she hadn't really seen lately but that she was extremely glad to see right then. As soon as she remembered everything that led her to be sprawled on the floor, she burst into tears.

Chuck tried calming her down while Minho lifted her upper body up slightly, resting her head on his chest.

She could hear the urgency in Chuck's voice as he peered over her face. "Hold on Sara, we'll take you to the Med-jacks."

Minho pulled Chuck out of his way for a moment to take a closer look at her face. "Shuck, Sara. That looks pretty bad." His eyes focused on the fresh injury on the side of her forehead. "Congrats, though. You just sent old Gally to a two-week sentence in the pit. Greatly appreciated."

Although she was sure she'd be delighted with the triumph of getting Gally out of the way, the cost was high. Everything hurt.

She couldn't listen to anything Minho or Chuck were saying to her. The pain was unbearable, and Minho didn't know what else to do about her crying, so he just held her.

Sara had done a decent job of staying strong on other occasions, even if things didn't go so well, but she finally broke. That's exactly what Gally wanted. It seemed she was accumulating injuries every day, and her visits to the Med-jacks became a normal habit.

What's tomorrow—my death? Death sounds real appealing right now.

She felt Minho hoisting her limp body up onto his arms, he grabbed her legs, then he wrapped one of her arms around his neck. Her crying lessened as he carried her over to the Med-jack hut.

Jeff took one look at the Runner and the girl in his arms, and he couldn't hold in his laughter. "This must be a shuck joke," he blurted.

Minho lay her down on the same bed from the previous times. Newt sat up abruptly on his bed as he observed the all-too-familiar commotion, only to lie back down since his pain prevented him from making extended movements.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me," he muttered under his breath. Sara could tell he wanted to laugh again, but when he took a look at her tear-stricken face, he stayed serious. "What happened to her this time?"

"Gally," Minho replied. "That ugly shank worked the Greenie to death here. Hope he'll be nice and comfy on his two-week vacation in the slammer. Alby's taken charge."

Even though Minho's words were supposed to sound reassuring, Sara felt like she'd done something wrong. Like the whole incident was just a leeway for everyone's hatred to increase. Especially Gally's.

Clint and Jeff wiped off her scratches and gave her some ice for the bruises on her shoulders, then they wrapped her head with some gauze.

Clint stared at her curiously, raising his eyebrows. "Wow, Greenie. You're officially the Glader with the most consecutive visits to the Med-jacks. Might as well come live here now—ya know—just in case."

Sara only rolled her eyes. He was right, but it was embarrassing. Everyone must've been thinking about how weak she was, but she just wanted to get out of there quickly and get back to work for real.

"Do I have to pay rent?" she asked with mock excitement. The joke made them snicker and shake their heads.

Minho nodded at Sara with an approving look. "You're one of my people," he told her. "It's official." He smirked as soon as he saw her frown. Although that was Minho's arrogant way of being nice, he made her smile a little. She was glad to have people like him, even if he wasn't always the exemplar gentleman.

Everybody finally left the room to let Sara rest, which meant they left her alone, next to Newt.

"How are you feeling?" She heard the accented voice coming from her right.

She groaned, turning her back to him just in case he'd have an attitude she'd rather avoid. "Could be better."

Worst week of my shucking life. Definitely could be better.

But he could probably care less anyway.

After a few seconds, she was surprised to hear him want to talk this time.

"Hey, listen, I'm really sorry about what that shuck-face did to you. Sometimes I wonder if Gally even knows what he's bloody doing half the time," he continued.

Slowly turning to face him, she shook her head. "Oh, I don't even wonder that. I know he doesn't. And that's all the time." She snorted softly, and Newt stared at her with a serious expression for a brief moment; as if he were really trying to figure her out. It made her uncomfortable, so she simply kept talking. "And that's alright, don't worry about it. What about you? How's that ankle?" She gestured to it with her head.

He looked at his own foot, assessing it with a simple shrug. "I think it's getting better. Should be able to walk—with a limp—but I'll at least get out of here in about two or three weeks."

Her mouth lay open. "That's such a long time though."

"Well, shucked up ankles have their price, don't they?" His expression fell once again.

She wanted sleep more than anything, even though it seemed like Newt was opening up at least a little bit more. Maybe soon they'd finally have a proper conversation.

"You'll be fine..." She yawned, then added, "We'll be fine." As she stared straight ahead, waiting for sleep to come, she could see him fix his gaze on her out of the corner of her eye, but she was too tired to look at him.

Finally, her eyes closed, and the darkness enveloped her into a desperately needed sleep.